


Where fancy words fail

by Cecil_Bearbiter



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Art, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy like whipped cream, Friends are the best wingmen, Friendship, Futanari, Love, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Teen Crush, confessing through art, faint hints of ShuMako, yutaba - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cecil_Bearbiter/pseuds/Cecil_Bearbiter
Summary: The Phantoms Thieves forgot about their Team Artist's birthday last January so they decide to celebrate it 3 months later, on the day of a student exhibition. His latest work confirms some of their suspicions about him and their Team Baby Sister.
Relationships: Kitagawa Yusuke/Sakura Futaba
Comments: 5
Kudos: 113





	1. A surprise for Yusuke

**Author's Note:**

> AGENT WAFFLES (https://twitter.com/WafflemusPrime) Wherever you are, man. This also your baby as much as it is mine UwU

“Say, Makoto..”

“Hm?”

“..Wanna be my partner in crime?”

Sojiro curiously peered up from the paper he was reading to gauge the brewing mischief in his disheveled ward. The boy was asking his girlfriend to be, what, his partner in crime? Whatever that means.. Though rather than question him, Sojiro instead turned his attention back on the newspaper, and reached for his own cup of coffee on the counter, when the former ‘miss president’ finally replied--

“..Again?”

_ ‘AGAIN’?! _

“Huh? Are you ok, Sakura-san?” Ren asked his sputtering guardian.

“Boss?” Inquired the boy’s lover, “is something wrong? Was the coffee foul?”

‘ _ Well now that hurt for you to insinuate, miss pres..’  _ Sojiro thought jokingly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He assured them, waving off their concern with a chuckle. “Was so absorbed with one of the articles on this here paper that I forgot how to drink.”

He continues to wave off their concerned gaze - a wordless insistence that they not mind his plight.

Ren obliged, of course. 

**[ REN started a new conversation ]**

**[ REN added MAKOTO, FUTABA, ANN, HARU, and RYUJI ]** **  
** **[ FUTABA changed the conversation title to “5 PIMPS PLUS RYUJI” ]**

**Ren** : LOL

**Ryuji** : ...wat..

**Ren** : Anyway, Makoto, what do you say about throwing Yusuke a surprise birthday party?

Ren peered up to his Queen who was seated at one of the booths, humming with her phone in hand as she ponders his inquiry. Many a college textbooks were splayed across the table. Ren had timed his inquiry when she finally ordered for another cup of Blue Mountain, which meant she was going to take a coffee break.

**Ann** : isn’t Yusuke’s birthday in January?

**Ann** : it’s already March.

**Ren** : Yea. The perfect time of the year to throw our favourite artist a -surprise- party!

**Makoto** : Not unlike the surprise Mothers’ Day party you guys threw for me last year, I’m guessing.

Ren chuckled into his fist, at which Makoto pouted with feigned indignation.

**Ren** : maaaaaybe..?

**Haru** : Well. Who would we be if we forgot about our Team Mom on her special day?

**Ren** : ^^THIS^^

**Ryuji** : Ditto^^^

**Futaba** : Mamakoto deserves only the best!  ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

Makoto sighed, defeated.

Ren could only sport what was essentially a shit-eating grin at that point.

**Makoto** : AHEM. Back to the topic at hand.

**Makoto** : What even implored you to consider throwing Yusuke a party?

**Ren** : I recalled we flew by January like it was nothing.

**Ren** : with nay a mention of a cake day from him.

**Ren** : and we threw Futaba a party on her day. Sort of.

“It actually pains me to think what impression that may have left on Yusuke.” Ren added in person, sounding morose.

Makoto’s expression fell.

January had been a busy month for all of them, granted. But they could’ve at least treated the young artist to, say, a winter day hike up Mt. Fuji which Futaba brought up was the artist’s next endeavour on behalf of art.

“You think he may have taken offense? He seemed rather happy when we went to celebrate Futaba’s birthday, however.”

Ren shrugged. 

**Futaba** : you guys barged into my room, AT 3 IN THE MORNING, with a pistachio-flavoured green cake (눈_눈)

**Futaba** : and in my half-asleep state, you guys had me blow out a candle and make a wish, like, WHAT THE EFF! (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ  
**Ann** : lol. And you ended up reciting lines from Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” instead of making a wish.

**Ryuji** : yoooooooooooooo I remember that!

**Futaba** : GAHD! (ಥ﹏ಥ)

**Ren** : like I said. “Sort of”. 

**Ren** : anyways. It’s only fair we throw Yusuke one, too. 

**Makoto** : I’ll concede to your point.

**Makoto** : A surprise birthday celebration for our resident artist.

**Makoto** : I suppose it’s only fair.

**Ren** : yup!

**Ryuji** : where are we gonna hold it tho?

**Ryuji** : not that LeBlanc aint a good place or anything, but I think Yusuke would appreciate a different venue?

**Ren** : think so?

**Ann** : yeah. A change of scenery would be nice.

**Ann** : No offense to boss tho!

A change of venue would be more of a courtesy to Sojiro than anything. Magnanimous as the old proprietor may be, it wouldn’t sit well with any of their conscience if they were to simply - again - hold a (often impromptu) celebration at LeBlanc.

**Futaba** : what about at his dorm?

Ah. Right. 

On the combined recommendation by Makoto and Ren one quiet afternoon, the resident artist of the Phantom Thieves had since moved to a larger home after Madarame’s lawyer contacted Yusuke, stating that he was to inherit a portion of the plagiarist’s fortune.

Yusuke initially expressed the inclination to decline, stating his principles. 

But Makoto and Ren insisted that he owed it to himself and his fellow artists to make good use of this boon to further his education, or at least to nutritionally sustain him.

So they reached a compromise; The money would stay in his own bank account lest for life-threatening situations, setting it up so that his bills are paid automatically; he would work through college in the same manner as he did in Kosei - by earning his scholarship through skill alone, participating in exhibitions and competitions; he will monetarily limit himself to a monthly allowance of 10,000yen and no more, but he can save up what is left of any previous month’s allowance and carry it over to the next.

In tow with that, he agreed to their suggestion of moving to a new, larger dorm.. Or studio apartment, rather.. nestled right between Kosei High and the university who had offered him a scholarship in their art program.

Makoto peered up to Ren then.

“At Yusuke’s home?” Makoto reiterated. “Wouldn’t that be an invasion of personal space? Or, worse - trespassing?”

“You say it like you guys have never barged into my room.” Ren countered in good humor, pointing up at the attic.

When he returned to Tokyo at the end of spring break - after everyone thought he’d be gone for longer - Sojiro offered to let him stay at his house. But Ren insisted he take up residence at LeBlanc attic once more.

‘If you insist, I guess.’ The old man had said.

“First of all,  _ you  _ typically invite  _ us. _ ” Makoto argued jovially. “And it’s not like you mind. I say you get terribly lonely up there.”

Ren feigned being wounded with a dramatic gasp, at which Makoto laughed, before both of them returned to their phones.

“True though. Not gonna lie..” He mutters.

**Futaba** : I’ll go on ahead and maybe tell him you guys wanna visit him at his dorm some time this week cus, I dunno, you guys wanna hang or sumthin? 

**Futaba** : Not a lie, technically.

**Futaba** : That’ll get him to clean up and store away the stuff he doesn’t want other people to see - like his unfinished masterpieces and whatnot.

**Ann** : huh. You’re pretty invested in this plan, aren’t you, Futaba.

**Futaba** : hey! Any chance to catch Inari off guard, 

**Futaba** : IMMA TAKE IT. ヾ(`ヘ´)ﾉﾞ

**Haru** : Is that your only reason, Futaba-chan?

**Futaba** : 1V1 ME, HARU.

**Ren** : You really wanna go up against our sweet ax-wielding Noir?

**Futaba** : ...nvm then..

**Ren** : Sooo.. To recap..

**Makoto** : Futaba will be our frontliner, basically; she’ll mentally prepare Yusuke for our invasion of his domicile, distract him for most of the day, we go and prep up in his room, we wait for him and Futaba to return. And done.

**Ren** : perfect. Let’s do this on Sunday. You guys good on that?

**Ann** : Agreed.

**Ryuji** : No prob.

**Haru** : No arguments.

**Ren** : Futaba, make sure you tell us if he is or isn’t fine with having guests on that day. We can always move the date.

**Futaba** : yep.

**Ren** : we’re good then.

So it was that on the following morning, Futaba embarked on an S-Rank mission - to infiltrate the den of a certain fox, divert him, and prepare him mentally for what was essentially an ambush.

/ / /

“You busy on Sunday?”

“..This week?”

Futaba nodded, sporting as innocent of a grin as she could muster. Though to Yusuke it just felt suspicious.

“Not in particular.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“What. No projects? No competitions? No.. whatever else it is you do?”

“Only an exhibition, but I’m merely required to submit my work for the critics to evaluate. Then I’m free to make of my day how ever I please.”

“Great! So the others can visit then?”

“After I submit my work in the morning.” He smiled - so sincerely and so genuinely that Futaba felt her heart skip a beat when he oh so briefly cast that silver gaze of his upon her. “Yes.”

She leapt off of his futon, throwing her arms up excitedly. 

“WOO!” She exclaims, “come on! Let’s get you some ramen!”

“Huh?”

“My treat! Come ooooon!”

“But I’m not hungry--” His argument was promptly cut short by his growling stomach, silencing both of them.

Futaba gave the taller boy an incredulous look, which Yusuke countered with a pleading look.

“May I at least pay for my own bowl?” He asks.

The low, husky cadence his voice suddenly took at that moment made it seem to Futaba that he was asking something very,  _ very  _ different.

Not wanting to draw any attention to her redding face, she relents.

“S-sure. Let’s just. GOOOOOO!”

‘Does this count as a kidnapping?’ Yusuke wondered as he willingly put on a more presentable shirt, willingly wore his shoes, willingly took his keys from its bowl and willingly took his phone from his nightstand, to willingly shove it into his pocket, after willingly checking if the battery would survive until he unwillingly returns.

He eventually ended up paying for both their bowls.

Yusuke was acquainted with the cook through his regular visits with Ren and Ryuji. So covertly billing out and paying for four bowls in advance - while Futaba was at the restroom washing her hands - was almost too easy.

Later, when Futaba eventually found out, she weakly vowed to make the young artist pay dearly for his subversion - much to his amusement and to her annoyance.

/ / /

Sunday came soon enough for the (former)Phantom Thieves.

Futaba bode Sojiro and her faux-brother a good morning over some curry, reminded each other the plans for that day, and the both of them set off to do their assigned task.

Which, to Futaba, meant commuting all the way Yusuke’s dorm-slash-apartment again.

Commuting in crowds meant little to her nowadays, especially since her daily commute to and from Shujin meant facing the same type of crowd day after day, ‘cept for the saving grace that was Sundays.

Ren would be meeting up with Ryuji. The former would carry all the kitchenware, plus a large ceramic pot and portable stove, while the other carried a family-sized folding dining room set - a folding table and six folding chairs.

The other girls were assigned the task of procuring ingredients for..whatever meal it is they have planned. Ann was thinking hotpot. Makoto was thinking udon.

Haru was thinking buttered lobster. .. But aside from that she insisted they allow her to at least provide for their transportation. 

Both leaders had tentatively relented since they thought the metro probably wouldn’t let them board anyway.

[meanwhile, in a DM between Oracle and Fox]

**Futaba** : Ready or not, I’m heading in!

**Inari** : implying you have a copy of my keys…

And indeed she did.

After a quick series of knocks on his door, Futaba let herself in.

“You’re quite lucky I do not possess the habit of walking around my home completely nude.” Yusuke lightly chided, though sounding a bit garbled. 

Futaba casually ambled over to lounge at, well, the lounge where a sturdy-looking canvas-shaped case sat leaning against the easel, ready for transport to the museum.

She hadn’t gotten around to pestering the young artist to show her his newest piece before he hands it over to the museum. Unlike his past project, Yusuke was unusually protective of this particular entry. To the point that the option of outright opening the case and seeing the painting inside was tempting. 

But she knew her limits; opening that case on her own volition without his consent would just offend the young artist more than simply irk him like their banter usually would. So she decided to ignore the painting, for now, focusing instead on..

“What the f-”

..on the artist in question.. who was currently standing shirtless by the bathroom, sporting a nice, new pair of black slacks and gray socks. His belt was still undone, his hair still wet, his navy-blue towel still draped over his shoulder, and he still had his toothbrush in his mouth.

Steam still lazily crept out of the bathroom through the door left slightly ajar. He’d just finished taking a shower, Futaba presumed.

He set his phone down on the  _ credenza  _ right by the bathroom, peered up to her, raised a curious brow at her flustered expression, and ambled back into the bathroom to resume brushing his teeth.

The entire time Yusuke remained in the bathroom, Futaba attempted to recompose herself in the lounge, riding the aftermath of her brain screaming “OH NO HE’S HOT”. 

She would never admit it, but Yusuke’s training with Ren and Ryuji at the gym called Protein Lovers definitely did wonders on the underfed artist, earning him the physique of a runner; all lean muscle and sinew, writhing beneath alabaster-pale skin generously decorated with assorted scars from their time as Phantom Thieves.

Futaba made a mental note to thank the two dorks for disguising their training regimen as ‘chiseling the blank marble given to us by our mothers’ rather than simply admitting they wanted to hang out more.

“Are you not feeling well?” Yusuke - now fully dressed - asked of the dazed redhead.

She risked peering up,  _ ‘God, no, he’s cute!’  _ and let out a soft whimper, much to his concern.

“Futaba-”

“S-so! We heading to the museum?”

“Hm? You wish to tag along?”

“I-if that’s ok. With you. I mean.” 

He chuckled as he went to pick up the canvas case, tucking it under his arm. “Why in the world would I be opposed to having you as company.”

‘Oh fuck this fox,’ she thought to herself in defeat - flustered to hell, especially after the double entendre of that thought finally sank in.

“Are you sure it’s fine if I tag along?” She asks, almost too sheepishly, that it piqued Yusuke’s curious concern once more.

“Are  _ you  _ sure you’re feeling well?” He countered.

Futaba huffs, stands, pouted at him, and marched towards the door.

He chuckles again.

“So you’re tagging along after all.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

While Yusuke took one last glance into his apartment, Futaba waited outside in the corridor, the latter promptly sent a few messages to the groupchat that excluded their resident artist stating that they were on their way out. 

Yusuke flicked the entryway light off, closed and clocked his door, and walked off with Futaba in tow.

**Futaba** : THE FOX HAS LEFT THE DEN   
/ / /


	2. ..a man's art sings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( YuTaba confirmed :: https://youtu.be/44DmlvlN3Ww?t=786 ) Fight me.

“Student exhibition, my ass.” Muttered a mildly disgruntled tech genius.

  
Futaba wandered a bit around the museum, perusing some of the frankly impressive pieces of art from every medium already up for tonight’s exhibition, but remaining just within view of Yusuke who was in the midst of handing over his own piece - still encased in its sturdy lightweight prison - to one of the coordinators.

She couldn’t hear them. Though none of the words or phrases she does happen to hear made sense, so she ignored it all.

The pieces entered by these participants - presumably students aspiring to gain admission into prestigious art schools or working to retain their present scholarships or are just in it for a lark - were all. ..stunningly well-made.

If she wasn’t informed beforehand that this was a student exhibition, she’d guess some fancy-schmancy artist from the west was on some kind of tour.

Even if the subject presented in a piece was something Futaba disliked or did not quite understand, the objective beauty of it was still undeniable.

Futaba wondered then how Yusuke’s own entry would compare.

What did it even look like?

How would everyone react to it?

Was it as good as these guys’?

_ ‘Of course it’s good, you doof! This is Yusuke Kitagawa we’re talking about! FOX OF THE PHANTOM THIEVES!’ _

WHY was she even having an internal argument about this?!

“Futaba-”

_ That  _ startled the inner turmoil briefly out of Futaba.

“Geez,  _ baka  _ Inari! Don’t startle me like that!”

“You startle quite easily lately,” he remarked, not at all irked by the ‘baka’ preceding his assigned  _ term of endearment _ from the team navigator. “Shall we go?”

“Done already?”

“I needed only hand over my work to the coordinator.”

“Nice! Nice.. umm,” Futaba checked the time on her phone. It was still too early to be heading back to the apartment already. “Can we, maybe, make a quick stop at Akihabara?”

Might as well buy that copy of Doom Crossing while she’s at it.

“I don’t see why not.” He says. And he said it with so jovial, so warm a tone of voice, as if he were glad to indulge her whims however ‘out of the way’ it may be for him.

Her hand decided it time to betray her then and instinctively reached for Yusuke’s hand. But what was left of her own free will diverted it just in time so it clung to his sleeve instead.

He took this as a wordless prompt for him to lead the way and smiled down at her, indeed leading her out the museum.

Futaba’s other hand did eventually betray her though.

As they trudged through the station to board their train to Akiha, her other hand went and grabbed hold of his wrist.

The contact surprised them both. 

Though Yusuke - in typical Yusuke fashion - didn’t show his surprise, Futaba, on the other hand, felt like she was about to spontaneously combust. 

It got exponentially worse when they finally boarded. ..At least for Futaba.

There were no seats available, as per usual. 

Yusuke kept his balance by holding on to one of the hanging rings, while Futaba kept hers by. ..hooking her fingers into his belt.

_ 'omfg the possibilities!..' _

She conceded then; defeated, emotionally exhausted, flustered to hell; and she whimpered, stepping closer so she could lean her head forward and rest it on his chest.

For the longest time they just stayed like that; uttering nothing and moving nay a muscle except for when Yusuke decided to rest his free hand atop her head - sinewy artist fingers intertwining with the threads of fire and sun that was her hair - causing her to briefly tense up before eventually relaxing.

_This_ just _felt_ **_right_** , somehow, Futaba realized with that familiar feeling of longing she thought only ever happens in anime;

To relish having his fingers in her hair, and wonder what it would feel to run hers through his; 

To hear his slow breathing and steady heartbeat; 

To feel his warmth, however sparse it seemed;

And to breathe in his scent past the mild aroma of soap, detergent and paint on his newly-laundered shirt - to just be  _ near  _ him.

It was soothing, she decided. Soothing and relaxing and  **_just right_ ** and,  _ ‘FML. I THINK I’M IN LOVE WITH INARI.  _ **_LOAD SAVE. QUICK LOAD SAVE!_ ** _ ’ _

She let out a resigned sigh. He felt that - her warm breath hitting and pushing against his shirt.

She quivered, too..  _ ‘Was she cold?’  _ He wondered.

Though, then again, he also wondered why she took a tentative step closer to him and rested her head on his chest; why she clung to his belt as if that was the most appropriate means of keeping her balance; why no snide remark, quip or protest came from this defiant ball of snark when he placed his hand upon her head; why she seemed to relax at his touch.

He allowed himself the presumption that, for once, at least for this one brief commute, Futaba Sakura welcomed this small gesture of.. Affection, was it? From him.

There was something that ought to be said, then and there, Yusuke supposed. 

Perhaps an inquiry? A confirmation? A statement that would leave nothing for either of them to ponder over?

_ ‘But, alas. Would you even chance lending me your ear here and now?’ _

“Inari.” Futaba’s voice - soft as it was - tore him from his musings. His breath hitched, but he played it off cooly. 

“Hm?” 

“Your heart is overclocking.” She says matter-of-factly, trying to sound annoyed. And for a very brief moment, realizing he has no valid reason for his heart to race like it is now, Futaba felt her own heart lag at the very faint spark of hope she felt then.

_ ‘Hope. Yeah. Sure. As if he feels the same way.’ _

/ / /

“Huh. It’s both exactly what I expected, and not what I expected at all.” Ryuji remarked curiously, scrutinizing the apartment he and the other Thieves(plus one sleepy Morgana) had infiltrated.

For one thing, despite going through the conscious effort of hauling a whole portable dining table plus chair, the not-blond was surprised to find that their resident artist boasted no table whatsoever in his apartment, discounting the desk and kitchen counter.

There were no paintings on the walls either. Neither his own or other artists’. But there were a slew of assorted sketches pinned to a floor-to-ceiling corkboard wall right beside an unoccupied easel.

Ryuji expected a little more clutter, he supposed.

“I like the minimalist approach Yusuke-kun took with his choice of interior design.” Haru chimed in as Ryuji went to further scrutinize the young artist’s workspace. 

“Probably keeps most of his art stuff behind that door there.” Ryuji absently noted, pointing at the door right beside the futon and across from the desk.

“Kinda speaks a lot about the guy, huh?” Ann absently and fondly added, joining Haru to stand and gawk at the spacious but sparsely-decorated apartment before them; it did speak plenty about their typically well-reserved friend.

Graphite pencils. Charcoal pencils. Two rulers-- “Why does he have two rulers?!” Ryuji asked no one in particular before promptly continuing his nonchalant perusing of Yusuke’s workspace.

Erasers - one black, one white, and one.. Misshapen..?  _ ‘A putty eraser?’ _ _  
_ A slew of pens and markers in a coffee mug Ryuji recognized all too well. It was the mug he had given Yusuke last Christmas; a sturdy piece, white outside and navy blue inside, with a blue fox painted on the side. On its handle dangled the red cat-shaped phone charm Ann gave the young artist that same day.

Ryuji smiled, glad that his and Ann’s gifts found a place in Yusuke’s workspace, and weren’t needlessly gathering dust in the dark corners of some cabinet.

But what turned Ryuji’s pleased smile to a full-on excited grin was the photo sitting right beside said mug.

“Dudes! Look!” He called to the others a tad bit too loudly, pointing at the photo like a kid eager to share his new ‘discovery’. “PRETTY BOY’S GOT A PHOTO OF US ON HIS DESK!”

“Inside voice, Ryuji.” Makoto scolded lightly from the kitchenette where she and Ren are chopping ingredients for the hotpot.    
Ryuji offered his wordless apology and continued pointing at the photo. Ann and Haru ambled over. As did Morgana.

The photo was of the whole group - plus Sojiro and Sae - at LeBlanc, celebrating a peaceful December 1st without a worry in the world. 

They weren’t huddled together like in most group selfies though.

Instead, thanks to a  _ doohickey  _ Futaba acquired online which she attached to the wall above the window, the photo shows all of them at their usual spots; Ren and Sojiro behind the counter; Sae, Futaba and Yusuke at the stools; Haru, Makoto, Ann and Ryuji at the booths; Morgana on Haru’s lap; looking and smiling at the camera.

The two girls gushed over the photo, matching Ryuji’s spirit as they did.

“It’s likely for inspiration.” Haru giggled.

“Well we  _ are  _ pretty inspiring.” Ryuji attested proudly. 

_ That  _ incited some good-spirited laughs out of all of them. .. Simply because they can’t rightly deny Ryuji that fact; a ragtag group of misfits - a troublemaker, a quarter-american girl of rumor, and an heiress of a murdered CEO - led by a delinquent(but not really), co-led by a former student council president, waiting for an artistic prodigy and a technological genius. Them being here, sharing laughs and celebrating each other’s well-deserved fortunes - it was nothing short of inspiring.

/ / /

“DOOM CROSSING!” Futaba exclaimed excitedly, holding the game up Lion King-style. “YUSSSSSS!”

“That looks.. Difficult.” Yusuke observed.

“You bet your foxy ass it is! And I’m gonna be the first one to get a 100% completion rating.”

Yusuke chuckled lightly. “Foolish of me to think you’d want to play something easy.”

“Hey, I’m not overly opposed to a round of Tekken against Ryuji, y’know.” Futaba practically preened for the fact that Ryuji had yet to win a single match on Tekken against her. “But, man, if I brought along my laptop, we could play this at your dorm!”

“Would that not conflict with today’s endeavours? What with everyone paying a visit later..”

“Oh. Right.”

“Next week would be nice though.” He promptly added when he saw disappointment briefly grace her features.

“YUSSSSSSSS!”

The commute home was significantly less.. Emotionally jarring.. At least compared to their commute to Akihabara. 

Having found unoccupied seats, Futaba continued to enthuse about her new game and Yusuke continued to listen. The latter’s interests seemingly piqued by Futaba’s talk of the artstyle employed in the game.

This continued well into them disembarking from the train, trudging through afternoon crowds, climbing the stairs to the outside world, and walking calmly the rest of the way to the apartment complex. During which Futaba's phone buzzed.

**Ren** : Done kidnapping Yusuke yet?

**Futaba** : I was just about to txt u! We’re like a block away from the apt complex.

**Ren** : Good.

**Ren** : Make sure he isn’t carrying anything fragile.

**Futaba** : a’ight. Lemme just get him to put me down.

**Ren** : LOL

“OH! I JUST REMEMBERED SOMETHING!”

“Hm?”

Futaba scuttled over so she stood in front of him, effectively blocking him and momentarily halting their advance towards his apartment.

“I gotta ask.”

He raised a curious brow.

“Does Kosei have an A Capella club?”

Yusuke gave her an incredulous look. He already guessed where this was going and he wondered if he should even answer or not.

“If this is your way of covertly asking if I can sing - I cannot.”

“Bull!” She exclaimed.

He chuckles. “It most certainly is not!”

“With that voice? I call bullshit on your ‘I can’t sing’ act!”

His laughter deepens, bemused by her insistence that he was even slightly vocally adept.

But boy did that deep, throaty laugh of his throw off Futaba's train of thought.

“You’re probably a broadway drunk!” She countered weakly.

“I am of the inappropriate age to be drinking, mind I remind you.”

“Point taken.” Futaba conceded with a sigh and a shrug. Then she harrumphs. “You art folk get to model nude and have nude models, but you can’t drink. Weird world we live in.”

“Indeed.” He readily agreed in his usual deadpan. “But I’ve never modelled nude before throughout my entire, err.. Career. As a student-artist.”

_ ‘Well you definitely should, you darn fox!’  _ Futaba thought, flustering herself to a point where she had to bashfully look away in a desperate attempt to hide her reddening face.

“R-really?” She wonders aloud, attempting to mask her own self-induced embarrassment with inquiry. “I sorta just assumed you artists model for each other.”

“We do,” he admits, “but rarely - if at all - nude.” 

_ ‘Though those rare 1-on-1 sessions, in quiet studios awashed with the golden glow of late afternoon sunlight, do bring with it unexpected opportunities for a certain level of intimacy most teenagers could only dream of.’  _ He mused to himself but would probably never say out loud.

Likely only Hifumi Togo knew - since he’s had no concrete reason to divulge such a fact to the rest of the Thieves - but poor Yusuke Kitagawa had admirers lurking about at Kosei; admirers from different programs; admirers who have left him love letters, origami hearts, even chocolates on Valentine’s Day; admirers who have eagerly modelled for him; admirers wherein some have been so brazen and so upfront that they even offered themselves carnally to him.

Steadfast as he was to his own principles and free of any such lustful moods during his time under Madarame’s wings, he rejected them all. Most of them bluntly.

None of them met his standards, regardless. Nor did any of them spark any sort of inspiration from him.

They were all just artistic references. Live pose dolls. Just a means to capture the likeness of the female form. Uninspiring.

But this young technological genius walking beside him, peering up at him with intelligent, bespectacled eyes. ..the awe-inspiring qualities of whom--

“So is there?” Futaba suddenly spoke.

Startled out of his own musings, Yusuke failed to recall what it is the redheaded hacker is referring to now.

“I-is there what?” He asks almost a tad too nervously.

“An A Capella club.. In Kosei. ..” She practically drawled, eyeing him suspiciously.

He sighs, half in relief, that she cannot read his mind, and half in exasperation.

“There is. Under Kosei’s music program.”

Mischief flashed in Futaba’s eyes. Yusuke saw. He dreaded it, sometimes. But right now it was more intriguing than worrying.

_ ‘What does this genius have in mind now.’ _

“SOOOooooo. ..Can a student under the Painting program join?”

Yusuke sighed again.

“Yes. But I’d rather not.” They both round the tall wall of the apartment complex, crossing the courtyard towards the front doors. “Hifumi-san has asked, or, rather, pestered me before to join--”

“SO YOU  **_CAN_ ** SING!” Futaba triumphantly exclaimed as they entered the lobby.

**_‘Would it please you if I sang to you right here and now???’_ ** His mind queried restlessly.

“I cannot.” He insisted, though weakly, amidst her triumphant snickering as they board the elevator up - even if only up to the second floor.

“CAN TO!”

“Can  _ you _ ?” He countered. He sounded smug asking that. Then again, this took the usual course of their usual banter; no real offense was intended.

Futaba harrumphs without any real venom, as per their usual course.

/ / /

“SURPRIIIIISSSEEEEE!”

“BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YUSUKE!”

\--greeted the banded voices of the (former)Phantom Thieves as soon as Yusuke opened his door and flicked the lounge lights on.

Familiar faces jump from blind spots and behind what sparse furniture he had. And Futaba had all but scuttled past him and further into the apartment to join the others, pulling a small party popper from her pocket then setting it off.

The resulting miniscule  _ ‘pop!’  _ was damn adorable, they all would admit.

Ren and Ryuji eventually moved to pull their one dumbstruck artist-friend away from the door so they could close it.

Ren placed a half-full cup of soda in Yusuke’s hands, while Ryuji went and placed a pair of chopsticks on the other. They made sure his grip was firm enough before letting the items go.

They had him sit at the head of the table.

The other Thieves sat at either side;

Ren at the immediate right, then Makoto, then Futaba.

And Ryuji at the immediate left, then Ann, then Haru and Morgana.

“THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL!” They all stated to commence the feast, save for Yusuke who was still in a daze.

“But.. my birthday was last January?” He says before clapping his hands together and stating softly, “thank you for the meal.”

“Yeah, man, we know.” Ryuji said as he refilled his own cup. “But we didn’t get to celebrate it back then. So we’re doing it now.”

Yusuke raised a curious brow.

“You treated me to lunch that day.” He says.

Ryuji narrowed his eyes. “That doesn’t count, man.”

Ann was shaking her head. “Lunch? That’s not gonna pass for a proper celebration, Yusuke, come on. You matter a whoooole lot more to us.”

“But--”

“But nothing, Yusuke-kun.” Haru chided, punctuating it with a bit of a glare.

“Right.” Yusuke gulped, taking a great bite of the meat he fished out of the hotpot. With glee he savoured the flavour of it - superb! He supposed that perhaps Makoto or Haru had a careful hand in choosing the ingredients for this hotpot; it was flavourful in all the right places.

Hotpot and - peering over to his kitchen counter - udon.

_ ‘They know me well.’  _ He inwardly cherished.

“We just hope we’re not overstepping any boundaries here, though,” Ann continued, “invading your apartment like this.”

Yusuke shrugged, holding a hand up to wordlessly convey that she wait for him to swallow his meal first. She pursed her lips anxiously.

“Not at all.” He assured her, for which Ann breathed a relieved huff. “But.. Why my apartment of all places though?” He asked eagerly after a lengthy sip of his soda, glancing first at Ann, then to Ren, then to Makoto.

Ren hooked his thumb at Futaba, “t’was her idea.”

“Of course it was.” Yusuke remarked, to which the redhead in question beamed smugly.

“But are you suuuuuuuuuuuuure this is ok?” Ann fretted further, almost startling him.

“Oh! No no, it’s quite alright, I assure you- I’m.. actually quite used to it.” Yusuke asserted, recalling how a certain redheaded hacker already made it a routine of theirs for her to suddenly pay him a visit without any prior announcement whatsoever.

Not that he was opposed to it.

Futaba’s presence did often incite within him some fiery inspiration which he begrudgingly often worked into some of his greatest works.

Ryuji - who’d been listening in on Ann’s lamentation - tilted his head curiously at the artist’s response. “Used to.. having unexpected guests?” 

“Yes.” Yusuke replied, casting a cold, sideways glare - though without any real venom - at a certain redhead who quickly caught his gaze, clearly unperturbed. “ _ Guests _ .”

Yusuke grunted.

Futaba, on her part, settled on smugly drinking her soda.

Such was their wordless banter, they both supposed.

“Ooohhh, I get ya,” Ryuji chuckled, “I bet you artists get a lot of late-night booty calls. Is that it?”

“What.” -was the only word that came to Yusuke’s mind and came out of his mouth at that exact moment.

Futaba, on her part, had practically short-circuited. Outwardly, she was fine; fussing over her food and her drink, for which she asked Makoto’s assistance. 

Inwardly she was once again flustered to hell. 

Noting the redhead’s discomfort, Yusuke moved to correct the faux-blond.

“Ryuji, that’s not--”

“You don’t have to be so modest, man.”

“I’m not.” The artist deadpanned, taking another big bite from his own bowl.

Ryuji rolled his eyes, unconvinced.

“Yusuke’s not a perv like you, Ryuji.” Ren laughed from the other side of the table. An exasperated Makoto chuckling reservedly beside him.

Ryuji, taken aback at first, laughed. “You’re one to talk!” He blurted jovially. Ren only laughed harder.

Ann and Haru began chuckling as well.

“You’re both pervs!” Makoto stated, jokingly swatting her Joker’s shoulder with the back of her hand.

He flinched, feigning injury.

Yusuke and Futaba joined in on the laughter as Ann and Haru’s own laughter grew. Ryuji was practically choking on the veggies in his bowl at that point.

“Mmm~ And how would you know that, Makoto?” Ann teased the team advisor.

Not that the duo of Queen and Joker was a secret any longer to the (former)Thieves. But Makoto was still shy about the whole thing, which Ren found endearingly adorable; he relished every moment he get to see the stern and unyielding Makoto Niijima turn beet red.

“Have you  _ met him _ ?!” Makoto countered hotly, flustered and pressing her flushed face on Ren’s sleeve, much to his eternal amusement, even as she keeps lightly swatting his arm.

Morgana - who had held his tongue throughout the entire exchange, content with just eating his share of the feast - fell off his chair beside Haru, adding further to Ryuji, Ann, Futaba and Haru’s laughter.

And it just branched off to a myriad of light topics from there, in between them fishing out veggies or meat from the hotpot, sipping soda or water, exchanging light banter.

By the time udon came around, the Thieves had grown adequately relaxed being in Yusuke’s apartment; Ryuji and the girls, save for Makoto who contented herself to conversing with Futaba about school, shambled a few laps around the unoccupied space between the table and Yusuke’s bed, occasionally perusing what little he had in the way of decoration.

Yusuke did not mind in the least; he decided that his home needed to be ‘lived in’ more anyways.

“Where were you two all morning, by the way?” Ren later asked before the other Thieves returned to the table to continue feasting.

As he drank his water, Yusuke cast a sideways glance at the gaggle of Thieves contentedly perusing his decor.. Or lack thereof. ..

Futaba, in particular, seemed fixated on an area on his corkboard wall seemingly devoid of any reference photos or sketches.

In truth, he made sure to remove and hide a rather damning sketch which he used for his last piece.

“Ueno Museum, at first.” He says just as the Thieves all flock back to their seats. “I had to submit my entry for tonight’s exhibition.” Ren perked up at that, especially considering he’d never actually seen Yusuke’s latest work yet. “Then Akihabara afterwards.”

“Bought the game I pre-ordered.” Futaba explained, showing her paper bag.

Ren smiled at her. “Doom Crossing?”

Futaba gave him a thumbs up. “Collector’s edition.”

“Niiiiiice.”

“RIGHT??”

Ren turned back to the young artist, “thank you for accompanying her, Yusuke. It would’ve been either me or boss.”

“It was no bother at all.” Yusuke assured him. “I found that exposing yourself to the atrocious advertisements at Akihabara can cleanse one’s artistic senses.”

Ren chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh! We almost completely forgot!” Makoto started, reaching for Ren’s bag beneath the table. “We have a gift for you, Yusuke-kun.”

“A gift?” He wondered aloud, his interest piqued.

Makoto pulled out a flat rectangle-shaped..  _ Thing  _ from the bag. One would easily mistake it for a rather large box of sweets. She passed it to Ren, who in turn passed it to Yusuke.

It was wrapped in a glittery, navy-blue wrapping paper and tied with two ribbons. One red and one glittery silver.

Yusuke bounced it on his hands. It felt light. The weight, actually, felt familiar in a way.

“We all had a hand in it.” Makoto continued. “Including Morgana.”

Gingerly, Yusuke unwrapped his gift. The Thieves all watched with eager anticipation as the young artist pulls out the culmination of all their collective artistic talents:

It was a small painting - done on an A4-sized canvas - depicting several arctic foxes painted in many different styles on different dynamic poses on a dark blue background dotted and speckled with white. Yusuke surmised that the white dots were meant to represent stars.

If he were to be blunt, the anatomy of the foxes they drew were. ..lacking. To say the least.

“This..”

“What’chu think, bro?” Ryuji prompted their friend.

“Umm..”

“I painted this one here.” The faux-blond pointed at a fox playing with a skull.

“Aesthetically speaking?” Yusuke began to address his friends as he continue to study his gift at every angle. “You are all terrible artists.” He says bluntly. And all their countenance fell in one decisive swoop- “But,” -then they perked up, “better friends?” He shakes his head, “there are no others for whom I would willingly lay down my life.” He makes a show of looking around, wondering where to hand the painting, “I will cherish this for all my years to come.”

Relieved and flattered, the Thieves breathed a collective sigh; their art friend liked their art(liberally speaking, in Yusuke’s opinion) gift.

“Who knew Inari could be so sappy.”

“I’m actually not sure how I’m supposed to take that reaction.” Ann joked. “I drew the one giving a cat a hi-five, by the way.”

Yusuke searched for the cat in question and found her at the bottom left corner, indeed hi-fiving arctic fox.

“I painted the one watering a bed of flowers!” Haru pointed out.

“Mine’s right here.” Ren pointed at a fox fiercely wielding a katana with its mouth. Then he pointed at a more regally poised fox, wielding a pencil and brush. “And there’s Makoto’s.”

“I think Inari liked our attempt at producing-” Futaba wiggled her fingers cryptically, “- _ art _ .”

Yusuke gave his gift a crooked smile in the midst of Futaba’s commentary. He deduced that the last arctic fox, situated in the middle of the canvas, riding inside what was clearly a UFO, was painted by the same redheaded hacker. 

Even as he inwardly scrutinized their brush strokes, mentally laid judgement upon the composition, and internally assessed their choice of colours, it was still the single most precious piece of art he now has in his current ownership. 

This and his latest entry. 

The Sayuri would be on this short list of his, had he not relinquished ownership of it to Sojiro Sakura.

“I suppose you can call it that.” He laughed reservedly, wondering if he had a spare frame in his storage room that can fit this masterpiece.

/ / /

“By the way, Yusuke-kun,” Haru suddenly spoke. The others - in the midst of eating through their udon - gave the pastel-clad heiress their undivided attention. “If the exhibition is tonight, then, perhaps we can all go later tonight?”

“Tonight?” Yusuke faintly echoed.

“There’s an idea.” Ren remarked almost too quickly.

“Well I’m game if you guys are.” Ryuji stated. 

“Saaaaaaame!” Ann chimed in.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing Yusuke’s latest masterpiece personally, in all honesty.” Makoto acquiesced, then turned to the redhead beside her and asked, “what’s your opinion of it so far, Futaba?”

“Huh? Who? Me?”

Makoto’s expression turned suspicious. “..Have you not seen it..?”  
Futaba shook her head. “Nah. Level wasn’t high enough. Couldn’t take a peek in that case Inari transported his new painting in.”

“Huh.”

“You didn’t send us a photo of your latest work either, didn’t you, Yusuke?” Ren asked of the young artist after plainly eavesdropping on the short exchange between his beau and Futaba.

Yusuke shrugged. “I felt I was not entirely prepared to present it to you all. It was--  _ is _ a very personal piece.”

“Aren’t all your work personal though?” Ann wondered aloud.

“This one is different.”

Ryuji narrowed his eyes - more towards the somber, tentative tone the young artist had suddenly adopted than at how generally evasive the young artist seemed about his latest work. “But you submitted it to the museum anyway.”

“Deadlines care little, if at all, for whether or not you’re mentally or emotionally prepared to impart with the world the inner machinations of your conscience.”

Ryuji blinked, taken aback by how suddenly and steeply Yusuke’s response dove at that moment.

“Woah. Ok.. That’s. .. Pretty fucking deep, man.”

_ That  _ at least cajoled a reassuring little smirk from Yusuke.

“My apologies, Ryuji.” Then he turned to address Ren. “I’m sure you recall our quest to uncover the complexities of the heart?”

Ren nodded. “Back then you were presented a challenge. In a bit of an underhanded way, though.. eheh”

“Ah! But a challenge, nonetheless!” Yusuke enthused, recalling said memory fondly. 

Ren chuckled. “Yeah. And you steamrolled the competition without even batting an eye.”

Yusuke blinked. “I did??”

“You. ..forgot that you won..?” 

Many a collective teardrop were had amongst the (former)Thieves. Not that they mind a refreshing break from the somber tone the air suddenly took.

“Inari’s so OP with art he forgot he won an art competition.” Futaba remarked with an incredulous sigh, finishing her bowl of udon.

“It was not relevant to his character development, Futaba.” Ren weakly argued.

“BS! I bet Inari racked up five digits worth of XP out of that quest!”

“More like six digits,” Ren sighed, “but that’s besides the point!”

“ ** _Back_** to the topic in hand, you two,” Makoto prompted, effectively halting the sibling argument unfolding between her beau and his faux-sibling by planting her hand firmly at the crown of their heads; like alarm clocks set to snooze, they stopped. “Yusuke, if you wish to continue?”

The artist in question was still attempting to recall whether he’d actually won that competition with ‘Desire and Hope’ or not.. His memory of it all is hazy at best. 

He’d have to try and recall it later, he supposed.

“Simply put. This is a particularly important piece. I’ve managed to pour into it all that my own heart had wished to impart upon its conception. And.. I suppose I hesitated bearing it all to the people I cherish most.”

“Why though?” Ryuji queried.

“Because a stranger’s interpretation of an artist’s work isn’t the same as a friend or family member’s.” Haru pointedly supplied. “I’ve heard collectors attempt to interpret Yusuke-kun’s artworks before, and they’re very different from our own input.”

Yusuke blinked again.

“I have collectors?”

“ **_Dude._ ** ” Ryuji deadpanned.

Haru laughed bemusedly. “Quite a few, actually, yes. Mostly foreigners looking to collect the works of Japanese artists. I’ve simply had the privilege of accompanying one of father’s old acquaintances on her tour of our local art scene. Kosei High was one of her stops.”

“Ah.  _ That  _ I remember.” Yusuke fondly recalled one rainy Wednesday at Kosei High, when all painting majors were suddenly required to submit a piece - old or new - by Friday that same week; an impromptu exhibition was held, apparently for a wealthy investor, and all classes were cancelled. Though students with semestral projects to finish were permitted to stay at their appropriate studios. “Half the students in Kosei’s painting major had a heart attack upon receiving the impromptu announcement.”

Haru’s laugh deepened.

Ann, who had been pulled into Haru’s lively spirit, asked, “were you one of them, Yusuke?”

“I was in the midst of adding the finishing touches to my project at that time, so I already had the event covered before it was even announced.” He says plainly, sounding neither smug nor proud. “Nonetheless, if you all wish to see my latest work, it’d be my pleasure”

/ / /

Wasting no time after the last empty bowl echoed finality, the (former)Thieves moved to gather up their waste and dirty dishes, forbidding the young artist to participate in the clean up as they went;

Wiped clean, Ryuji and Ann folded up the table and chairs.

Gathered up into neat stacks by the sink, their bowls were promptly but thoroughly washed by both Makoto and Ren.

Haru went about wiping down the counters and sweeping the floor.

Yusuke, seated at his couch facing the kitchenette, could do naught but watch, entranced by the swift efficiency his friends were displaying at making up for their intrusion by leaving no trace of their presence. Despite him insisting that they need not labour themselves back-breakingly, lest, jokingly, there be no more chores for him to do later in the evening.

Futaba shushed the fretting artist with a pat on the head.

“Shush,  _ baka  _ Inari. The birthday boy shall do no chores tonight. That is the law.” She recites to him.

“Law?” He counters incredulously. “Of which country? Certainly not Japan!”

Futaba shrugs, befuddled, not thinking he’d actually argue. “I dunno. The Philippines?”

Yusuke crossed his arms. “In the Philippines, the celebrant’s typically the one breaking their backs, before, during, and after the celebration.”

“Well we’re not in the Philippines, are we, Inari? So stop fussing and just relaaaaax.”

_ ‘Hmph.’ _ “An impressively devious counter-argument, Oracle. I concede.”

"They're adorable when they're getting along." Ren remarked fondly to Makoto, peering over his shoulder to study the unlikely pair at the couch bickering like old wives.

"If you can call that 'getting along'." She says. But the contented smile she sported alluded that she agrees with him.

It came as another treat from the Okumura heiress, that while they were all resting their weary stomachs, full to bursting with their feast of hotpot and udon, she had covertly called for her company limo to transport them.

Sleek, spotless black, and opaque windows, drove up and parked right in front of the apartment complex as they were filing out, much to everyone's dumbfounded surprise.

"Harruuuuu." Makoto whined at the heiress.

"I-it's only for convenience, Mako-chan. I promise." Haru defended nervously.

Makoto would have the heiress promise not to do them any more luxurious favours, despite Haru’s insistence that it wasn’t a favour. Rather, she’d claim, it was so they didn’t have to leave the table, chairs, and other equipment at Yusuke’s apartment, claiming further than the limo’s trunk was spacious enough to hold everything they brought along.

They arrived at Ueno some time past 4.   
Haru had arranged beforehand for the driver to drop them off at the Benten Gate and take their equipment to her home, and that she’ll be commuting with the others later, so their exit had been swift enough that they’ve avoided attracting attention.

The lengthy walk from the Benten Gate to the museum proper would at least be enjoyable.

“Man, I keep forgetting how huge this place is.” Ryuji remarked.

“It’s not like you’re here often enough,” Ann quipped.

Ryuji fumed quietly, considering he couldn’t argue against her solid fact.

Ahead of the pair, Makoto and Haru are engaged in a deep discussion regarding the student exhibition. They’ve noticed students from other schools wandering around the park and deduced that some of them might actually be participating in the exhibition. From there they wondered how their friend’s own entry compared.

Ahead of  _ them _ , marched Yusuke and Ren, engaged in their own discussion, though in a tone a tad more somber.

“I can’t help but notice you’ve been extremely evasive about your newest piece,” Ren brought up, already prompting a dejected sigh from the artist. “Yusuke. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

“Not in particular, no. I’m just pensive about how you all will react to it.”

“It can’t possibly be that bad.” Ren practically chastised the young artist.

Yusuke, on his part, shook his head bemusedly. “No. It isn’t, I assure you. I wouldn’t be so conflicted if that were the case. It’s--"

A voice to their immediately left caught his attention. Ren looked past the artist to a student waving at them.

"Kitagawa-senpai!" The student called again.

“‘Senpai’?” Ren wondered aloud.

“One of your classmates, Yusuke?” Makoto asked, noting that the student’s uniform bore Kosei High’s signature fleur-de-lis.

“A freshman from my school.”

“I don’t think he’ll be walking up to us.” Ren remarked, seeing as the student had yet to move from where he stood waving at them and showed no signs of intending to come closer. “You should go and see what’s up.”

Yusuke grunts pensively. “Sorry. If it’s not any trouble, we’ll have to part ways for now.”

“It isn’t. No worries.” Ren assured him, and sends the artist off to take care of whatever Kosei-related business called for his attention on the agreement that they’ll just regroup at the museum proper later.

Yusuke followed the freshman behind one of the park’s statues, strategically hiding him from view of the other Thieves - though he didn’t know that fact until the freshman led him to a certain fellow Kosei senior, sporting long raven-black hair.

“Togo-san?!”

“Sorry for leading you away from your friends,Yusuke, but I needed to talk to you.”

_ ‘Talk? With me?’  _ He wondered, until he saw that inquisitive glint in her eyes that typically meant she wanted to pry something out of him. And since they were at Ueno, during the night of the student exhibition, he already had an idea of what topic it is the Venus Of Shogi intends to raise.

He let out a dejected sigh, not daring to meet her eyes once more.

“I suppose you’ve seen it, then.”

Hifumi nodded, matching his disposition. “Yes. And I  _ see  _ what you were trying to convey with it. As well as a great many other things you simply happened to include.”

“It was an exhausting process, I’ll admit.” He states.

Hifumi shrugs. “Yusuke. Are you sure you’re ready to show them?” She gave him a sympathetic look then, like the one you’d give a child you’ve managed to cajole into sharing his candy.

Part of the conception of this particular piece - now displayed in a museum for all to see and interpret - Yusuke owed to Hifumi Togo; after she met and acquainted herself briefly with the other Thieves one lazy December day, she’s been conversing with him a lot more often, usually delving into the topic of which among the Thief girls had so brazenly stolen his heart.   
That was the first time Hifumi witnessed the usually well-composed Yusuke Kitagawa turn red.

“I’ve been led to believe that ripping the bandaid off now would save me an immense amount of unnecessary grief later.” He responded somewhat jokingly. He even punctuated it with a chuckle.

Hifumi mimicked his laugh. “Well, if it’s any consolation, Yusuke-kun, I truly believe your work will resonate with them at just the right frequency.” She made a show of pinching her fingers and posing like a chef delighted with the culinary masterpiece she’s conceived.

Considering she and her own classmates would be playing live music for the exhibition tonight, it didn’t surprise Yusuke in the least that she’d use such an analogy.

..Then an idea struck him.

“Hifumi-san, sorry, but mind you do this one favour for me?”

Her expression lit up. “Of course not!”

“I need to take a bit more time clearing my head, so I’ll walk around a bit.” He reasoned. “If you could lead them to my work and, proverbially, aid me in ripping this accursed bandaid off, that would truly mean the world to me.”

She beamed at him then. “Ah. Say no more, Kitagawa. I’ve got this covered.” She says, stepping back and pulling out her phone before looking around; the Thieves were already some distance away, inching ever closer to the museum proper, but Hifumi recognized Yusuke’s ragtag band of close friends; 

Amamiya’s disheveled mop, 

Niijima’s regal and motherly demeanor,

the Okumura heiress’ pastel palette and fluffy, soft brown hair, 

the two blonds’ classically striking appearance,

And the unpredictable redhead clinging to Makoto’s arm.

“I’ll message you if anything happens!” She says as she runs off, leaving an emotionally exhausted Yusuke loiter further at the statue of Prince Komatsu.

Knowing that the inevitable fallout of this day was looming over the horizon like a demented sunrise, Yusuke made his peaceful way towards the Five-Storied Pagoda at Ueno Zoo.

Hifumi Togo, after catching up with the group, made quick work of re-introducing herself and explaining that Yusuke would be.. .  _ preoccupied _ , for a while, and that she’ll be their acting tour guide for the day.

The Thieves were more than welcoming of her, given that they’ve already established her as a mutual friend via Ren and Yusuke.

To one Futaba Sakura, the Venus Of Shogi looked oddly nervous. And excited at the same time. It was an odd nervous-excited combo, she supposed, and it was suspicious as hell. Hifumi would even chance sneaky glances at the redhead and Futaba - still clinging to Makoto so she managed to avoid bumping into anything as they traversed the museum proper - would often catch the shogi player’s eyes, glaring back in return.

The artwork found its home among many other paintings from Kosei at the center right area of the museum, illuminated from high above.

“Holy shit,” came the breathy voice of Ryuji.

Then a soft gasp from Ann.

“Oh my.” Haru then whispered.

Futaba felt Makoto tense up at first in surprise as she too laid eyes on the painting. Then from the corner of her eyes Futaba saw Ren gawk with mouth agape.

“Sakura-chan.” Prompted Hifumi’s seemingly distant voice.

It was right before then that Futaba finally saw what she’d been itching to see since, well, since she noticed how evasive the artist responsible had been; the painting she and the others jumped at the chance of seeing as soon as they could.

And Futaba, simply put, was speechless.

“S-sakura-chan??” Came another prompt from Hifumi. Though it fell on deaf ears.

Futaba, like the other Thieves, were absolutely transfixed.   
  


/ / /

It was a simple little portrait. 

A simple little portrait with a simple little placard right beside it that says ‘[UNTITLED] by Yusuke Kitagawa, Kosei High’, of Futaba Sakura, facing right, postured like she’s on her chair and was now addressing whoever was seated on her futon in her room.

The background was a harmoniously chaotic cacophony of colors barely breaching the darkness that typically enveloped her room. Save for herself - her bright orange hair, pale complexion, signature green jacket with its faux fur lining, and red-padded earphones - the blindingly bright monitors in the background were the only contrast to the darkness.

Her expression was one she rarely sported, if ever; a soft smile, relaxed eyes, and a very faint tinge of pink on her cheeks.

She remembers that exact moment clearly now that she thought about it.

**A WILD INARI** supposedly neck deep in deadlines at that time lounged in her room one January afternoon after she finally recovered from a rather stubborn flu. Typically, any exchange between them would devolve into their regular banter. But in his hazy state that day, he had said to her something so outlandishly endearing, she couldn’t help but find herself - for once - smiling back at him rather than snarking back.

Genuinely smiling, rather than throwing quips.

And to add to that, with the kind of brash confidence only a Phantom Thief could muster, he stated that she had a rather cute smile.

It was a fleeting little exchange between them, and a rare one at that, yet Yusuke had somehow committed it to his memory, rendering it into permanence with such volatile a means as paint upon a canvas.

And it wasn’t as if the expression itself was something different, generally speaking; anyone else could absently capture her smiling like that with a phone camera and think nothing of it afterwards. But Yusuke managed to coax his skills into faithfully conveying her image such that she appeared _uncharacteristically_ radiant with all the resting confidence born of a resolve tempered by her time as Oracle of the Phantom Thieves.  
Simply put.. She looked _amazing_. 

_ ‘But I’m not like that…. Right???’  _ She wondered inwardly.  _ ‘Is this how he sees me?’ _

“Umm.. Futaba-chan?”

At least Haru’s voice seemed to register with the redhead since Futaba managed to pry her eyes from the painting.

“Dude. I think Yusuke’s into you.” Ryuji - oh so plainly - concluded, turning to regard the redheaded hacker now presently turning red.

“WH-WHAT?!”

“What’s with that reaction?!”

“Ryujjiii!” Ann chided the faux-blond, “you can’t just say something like that and expect Futaba not to freak out!”

“He still has a point though.” Ren eventually spoke up.

“Yusuke doesn’t go around making masterpieces like these,” Makoto glanced briefly back at the portrait, “especially not without reason.”

“H-he’s asked Ann to model for him before!” Futaba hotly argued.

Ann scoffed. “ _ That  _ was different. If anything, he’d act the same way towards a colorful fish.”

“Point.” Futaba grumbled.

“You’ve never modelled for him before, have you, Futaba?” Makoto inquired. The sly mischief tinging the Team Mom’s voice did not pass Futaba by, however.

“Never!”

“Mmm. Then that means he painted this portrait right from memory.” She says. Futaba’s eyes widened, looking back at the portrait.

“Th-that doesn’t mean anything..”

“He has sketches of you on every page of his sketchbook, lil sis.” Ren pointed out smugly. “Even when you’re not around he’d draw you. And it’d always come out crazy accurate to how you look.”  
“He’s.. He’s like that with everyone! He could draw an accurate portrait of Ryuji with his eyes closed! DRUNK!”

“If you coax him with food, sure, but he ain’t gonna draw me to pass the time.” Ryuji countered deftly. “And didn’t he, like, take care of you when you were sick?”

_ ‘He actually took time off his busy week to visit me after I got better. To celebrate my good health. Our conversation then.. That’s probably where this portrait came from.’ _ She wanted badly to confess to them, but decided not to. 

Perhaps they already knew.

“Y-you guys were busy!”

“He didn’t know that.” Ren pointed out. “He’d only text me that he was heading to LeBlanc--”

“Then he’s there for the coffee and curry! Come on!”

“ _ I meant  _ he’d go to visit  _ you  _ in particular, and then boss would repay him with a full meal. Or at least try to.”

“Try to?”

“He had deadlines that time, didn’t he? So whenever he needed to leave, he did so on an empty stomach, sparing no time for a hot meal. Though boss did eventually just decide to prep for Yusuke some take-out which he’d insist he take.”

Futaba didn’t know that. 

She blinked, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt for how she behaved during that week and a half she’d been sick and he took it upon himself to care for her; fussing and bickering with him whenever it was time to take her medicine or to eat - as per Dr. Takemi’s orders.

“What..”

Then again, she felt relieved. 

In those days the faint crush she had for him deftly developed itself into full-on infatuation, of which  _ Inari _ seemed too dense to really notice - which, initially, was a relief for Futaba.

“He made burnt wood art panels for you as your birthday present.” Ann fondly recalled the redhead’s last birthday. “Y’know. The ones depicting your personas - Prometheus and Necronomicon.”

“Yet again, another detail about you that Yusuke-kun’s faithfully committed to memory.” Haru pointed out.

“They were really detailed, too.”

“H-he has everyone’s personas committed to memory..” Futaba argued weakly before peering over to Hifumi Togo, who had since planted herself on one of the benches just beyond earshot of their one-sided argument in which Futaba felt vastly underleveled.

_ ‘If this is how he sees me, then.. Was I right? WAIT. WAS I ACTUALLY RIGHT TO HOPE???’ _

“TOGO-SAN!” Futaba ran up to the Venus Of Shogi, grabbed her shoulders, and looked her straight in the eyes, “WHERE’S YUSUKE??”

“UMM.” -came Hifumi’s eloquent response, completely taken by surprise.

Futaba sighed and pulled out her phone. “Actually, nevermind. I forgot I got a tracker on him.”

“Futaba, w--” Makoto wanted to ask where the redhead was going, but Futaba looked back at them with a defiant fire in her eyes that Oracle could’ve only ever learned from Queen herself.

“I got trackers on you guys as well. We’ll just track you all down later!” She says - practically shouting - as she flees to find her Fox.

Makoto blinked at that last bit.

_ ‘Trackers? Bugs?? On all of us??? WHAT.’ _

“Honestly? I’m not surprised.” Red commented, seemingly unperturbed by the development.

“About what? Futaba having bugs on us? Or Yusuke harboring some deep infatuation for her? Or that Futaba might actually reciprocate?” Makoto wondered aloud.

“All of the above.” He shrugged. “But mostly the first one.”

“About fucking time, if you ask me.” Ryuji then stated idly, turning on his heels so he could admire the piece once more.

There were a few other people now, all gawking at the painting with some level of awe. It was of no real surprise to Ryuji - or to any of the Thieves within earshot - to hear some of the spectators fumble about in trying to interpret the ‘emotions behind the painting’ to the inevitable point of bringing up ‘Sayuri’.

“That’s a hell of a way to end a birthday celebration though.” Ann pointed out.

“Birthday?” Hifumi wondered. “Whose, if I may ask?”

“Yusuke’s- ah. Umm. We sorta forgot to celebrate it last January? So we decided to celebrate it today.” Ann explained.

“Had hotpot at his place and everything.” Ryuji chimed in.

Hifumi smiled then, glad that her friend was in the company of some admirable individuals.


End file.
